When my eyes mist
And my ears desist
And my nose colds
and my tongue folds
And my cheeks crack
And my lips black
And my mouth grins
And my spit runs
And my hair falls
And my heart stalls
And my hands cease
And my feet freeze--
All too late, all too late
When the hearse is at the gate...
Then shall I flit
From bed to floor,
From floor to shroud,
From shroud to crowd,
From crowd to grave,
And the grave closed:
Then my house shall lie on my nose.
And for all this world I won't give a pea.